Time marched on inside the expansive underground chamber. The air carried the faint scent of polished wood, old paper, and the ozone-like tinge of active mana circulation. After hours of foundational aura studies, Lucien's limbs ached—not with fatigue exactly, but with a subtle heaviness that came from channeling something within him he had only begun to understand.
And now, the next phase of his training was upon him.
It was time to spar.
The transition from theory to application had always been the real test of any warrior. Knight Rex stood near the sparring platform at the center of the chamber, arms folded, watching Lucien closely as he inspected the training rack lined with a variety of wooden swords.
Lucien's silver hair clung slightly to his temples from earlier exertion, and his gray-red heterochromatic eyes scanned the blades—not looking for the best, but perhaps for something that just felt right.
